Robbed―
of my aloneness, by
an army of ravens―
thoughts. I
meditate and weave
your face―
in muse. My
journey begins on a
mist scent as the moon rises.
What more you
want, than the silence,
before the bell tolls.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 9th, 2019 20:07
- Category: Nature
- Views: 26
Offline)
Comments1
I like this.
I hear a chime when I read it.
Some form of imagery.
Love and Laughter,
Joker44
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